I think it's cause for celebration, in certain cultures... or eras, or species... something i think i've read.
Here and now I'm scared to acknowledge my own daughter's new ability to grow life. I'd hate to embarass her...
I've just decided I think my favorite thing about the seashore is not the smell or the air that lets your skin finally breathe or even the waves, never not interesting.
It's that for some reason, even though the gravity must be at least minutely stronger at Big Sur than high in my mountain home, the Pacific draws my feet and mind up and out.
How, I'll never know, which makes it all the easier to smile dumbly into the thinning mist and feel that childhood rapture, irrepresibly caught up in the onrushing unknown and recognizing that what is happening to you has never happened to anything ever before
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